Break
by EditionsOfYou
Summary: Separated and inhabiting different worlds, Chris and Travis break from each other in their own way...


Thank you for clicking onto my first Fear the Walking Dead fic. Hey there, how you doing today?

To be honest, I never thought I'd write a fic for this series... but the storyline between Travis and Chris MESSED me up. Too damn sad. ( Props to the actors who did an incredible job.) Travis and Chris is one of the story lines that really grabbed my attention because unlike some of the other story-lines that feel very trite/forced, or absurd (or just a prompt for more gore), it dealt with a such a dark and heavy issue and in a pretty mature and complex way- considering its a action/adventure zombie killing show. Also I should say this story includes a SPOILER alert for season 2 finale, just in case for those who haven't watched it yet...

In addition, I didn't feel like the Talking Dead tackled the topic of the Chris- Travis's relationship or Chris's death all that thoughtfully (but guess because its a light-hearted 'fan-show' and they were busy promoting the next season.) So unable to help myself, I wrote this drabble thing character portrait just to get it out there. I hope it provides something to people out there who want to read or discuss more about that plot line. Any feedback or thoughts are very much appreciated.

This takes place after Chris leaves from Travis' viewpoint, and from Chris at the moment of Chris's death.

Trigger warning includes: violent and traumatic imagery, conflicted family dynamics, mention of psychopathic behaviors and grief and loss

* * *

Travis Manawa loved his son.

'Goddamnit Chris!' Travis had shouted futilely after him, but it was too late.

He walked a few steps after the car driving Chris away, although there was no chance of catching up, the dust from the tires kicking up his face.

It was a hoarse shout of absolute defeat.

And as he said it, he knew the last thing he said to his son- should have been that he loved him.

Travis loved Chris-

but Travis had he loved his ex-wife Liza- and she was gone now too.

Travis had always wanted a family.

To want children was a act of optimism.

An acknowledgement there was a future to be had, someone who had to be next in line, something to pass on in a reasonable world that would still be there.

Travis had wanted a son.

He was lucky- and had gotten just what he had wanted.

He had wanted a daughter too, but after Chris, the marriage got harder and he and Liza decided it wasn't a good idea to have another kid.

And the divorce made it worse...

A wife, a kid, a good life. Travis had once had it all.

Travis tried to be a good man.

For a while he was.

But things had only gotten worse and worse.

And the closer he tried to get to Chris after his and Liza's separation, to that delicate rejected hurting boy, with his smoldering resentful stare, the more Chris slipped away from him , chipped away something in him and became something Travis didn't know, couldn't understand or control.

Didn't want to.

And worse, though Travis's marriage had failed and through it was his and his wife's fault, Chris had suffered most.

But the kids always suffered most. It wasn't Chris fault, but Chris, like all the children do, he ended up paying for it.

Chris later served to remind his and Liza's mistakes. Of dashed hopes and broken promises.

That even before he had gotten half-way through his life, Travis had nothing to show for it except a sub-par career as a English teacher, a broken marriage and a broken son.

That wasn't the plan.

And that wasn't the man Travis wanted to be.

It was unfair that somehow it was too painful to be around his own child because it hurt him- because Chris resembled his ex-wife, more than him.

In truth, Travis had wanted a fresh start.

He was still young enough. He wanted to be content, to do good and make peace with himself, and in order to do that , he had to reinvent himself.

So Travis found Madison. He matured. He didn't make the same mistakes again. He fell in love. He was happy.

Possibly, Travis was too much a coward to face that guilt, that sense of failure and doubt always seemed to chase after him.

That seem to show itself best in Chris's face.

Maybe in order to live with himself, to live with the world, Travis had always lived in denial.

Perhaps it was better.

So what if he and Chris weren't close?

Let Liza take care of Chris. She was his mother after all. Mothers were better with that sort of thing.

Or at least Travis wasn't good at it.

Even so, Travis couldn't absolve himself of his own son- because he wasn't enough to Chris.

He had failed Liza too.

But he had done his duty by her - killed her that desperate terrifying night - because she was good as dead already. It was his duty to the mother of his child to make sure she wouldn't harm her own son. It had to be done- to protect Chris and the rest of his family.

He knew his one duty now after Liza, that had been to keep Chris alive, to keep him with him.

Now he had failed that one responsibility, before and after everything had been destroyed.

Like Liza had died for nothing.

Parents weren't never supposed to give up either.

Before he had children, Travis had never understood that sense of allegiance, that desperate love, that willingness to do or forgive anything from someone.

Once, he thought he did.

Like once, he considered Madison's kids his own kids. That's why he risked his own life, had gone looking for Nick that night in LA in the abandoned church himself so long ago.

He would be willing to die for Nick. Or Alicia.

He saw now that Madison hadn't felt the same about Chris- had so quickly given up on him...

That had changed his mind about her.

Could he continue to love a woman who didn't love his son?

Travis didn't think he could.

Could he love a son who didn't love him back?

Yes, he could.

Or in spite of everything, he did.

Loved Chris- who had tried to kill him- stab him.

Then later betrayed him. For a pack of murderous boys he knew for hardly two days.

In that moment, Chris might as well have killed him.

And he realized how angry his son must have been at him. As if he had done each appalling thing- threatening Alicia, holding a child hostage, even killing that farmer in cold blood- to test his love- to hurt him.

And instead, Travis had spent the whole time disapproving of him,trying to _teach_ him . Travis was a teacher after all. he had to maintain a moral example for Chris's sake.

He was his father.

But he hadn't shown Chris how to be a man before, proven himself to him.

It was too late.

Even leaving Madison for him, leaving the group behind, there was no trust there.

His son was sick. He needed help.

And for once in his life, Travis didn't know what to do.

How to help him.

But through one precious moment, he had brought his arms around Chris, held his son close to him. It felt like a shred of hope of getting through to him. That Chris was his. Not anyone else's. The last thing he truly had in the world. He grabbed his son, wanting to protect him. Assure Chris that no matter what he did, who he hurt, that he loved him. That he'd keep him with him.

How could this have happened?

That Chris didn't know that?

Had he been that lapse of a father?

Had he let Madison, the need to be 'good', take him away from the only thing that mattered?

And Chris was gone.

He should have stayed with him.

And in letting Chris go, was Travis no better than a murderer?

Directly- or indirectly, destroying his family?

Losing Chris was the deepest pain he had ever felt.

Something he knew he would never recover for however long he lived - if Travis survived much longer. The biggest mistake he ever made, the deepest disappointment and bleakest anger he could carry.

The biggest proof of his failure.

He had made the wrong choice again.

All he hoped was that Chris was alive.

Travis Manawa loved his son.

* * *

Chris Manawa knew he was going to die.

He had trusted Brandon. And Derek. Baby James was dead. But he was a goner anyways. Like the farmer who had shot him over a chicken. Ha.

At least Chris had proven himself, had gotten vengeance on the guy who had killed him.

What was his name? The dude was born on he same day as he was. Or died the day he was born?

His father had told him this, like that meant anything .

He had done what had to be done.

That was how life was now.

Chris accepted it.

Now it was time to move on.

If you didn't choose to be there, breaking away should be easy. And now finally Chris could choose where he wanted to go.

And all it took, simple step of getting in car. Looking back as he got farther away.

Away from that pain.

Driving around in the car with the other guys had been the happiest days Chris could remember.

The freedom of the open road, like a great American novel. Except he wasn't in America, and nothing would be 'great' -not in that way. In its own way. His own way.

And Chris liked the emptiness and the passing scenery. For once he had a group of friends- going on a road trip like the kind he wished his family had taken him on but never did.

Their family never had did the things Chris had wanted.

Included stay together.

And finally Chris could exert his will on the world, go places, do what he wanted.

He had never had that before.

And these guys understood him, instantly accepted him. Approved of him.

For once, he had a home.

It was the closest thing to belonging Christ had ever felt.

Chris had been quiet in school with his long hair grown out . His quietness, shyness, depression, his loneliness- but he was a good smart kid .

But being a good kid didn't keep his ass from being kicked.

His dad had just told him to 'fit in."

Which meant 'suffer quietly'.

Chris never could fit. Not even with his own dad. He felt his father' s disappointment, his rejection, his confusion with him grow with each passing year. His eagerness to get away from him. Be with his 'new' and 'better' family.

Chris even looked like his mother, not like his father.

But Mom was dead now.

Mom didn't deserve to die. She was good , good , beautiful and kind.

But death didn't care how good or bad you were.

It came anyways.

And everyone around him couldn't understand his loss. They didn't care any kind of way about her.

Not how Chris did.

Mom was Chris family, the only one he had. Not his dad's family or Madison's.

And after, they wanted him to do the convenient thing, and 'get over it'.

Fine. He did.

He kicked her dead body off the boat - just to show them how much he'd gotten over it.

And when Mom was dead, he had been left alone with them... those persecuting strangers. That cold fake Madison- like she could talk to him, her 'perfect' vacant daughter, scuzzy druggie Nick.

Those people never trusted him. They never had wanted to know him, and he didn't know them.

They weren't his blood.

And Dad betrayed him. Sided with them. And the only family he had, Mom, he had killed.

Shot in the head.

Even dogs didn't die like that.

It probably been easy for him to do. After all, Dad was the one who had left the two of them years ago.

It had always been him and Mom.

And after Dad killed Mom- nothing had been the same.

Chris had seen it, and nothing in this world would ever take that away.

It was a part of Chris. He'd never be clear and clean of it.

Nothing could be clear or clean again.

You might as well wallow in the muck.

The three of them- Chris, Derek and Brandon had been driving for days, endless similar roads, flat vistas of dust and sun baked rocks, all of them exhausted, near asleep.

Now Chris was tired of riding in the back.

Tired of being exposed in the open air. He wanted to drive for once. Call the shots.

And one thing for being in a group, you had to do your part. Prove yourself.

They let him -which was an act of trust- and Chris took the wheel. Remembering when his dad had taught him how to drive.

At least Dad taught him something. The breaks, the gas, how to turn. Except the three point turn. He didn't know that.

But there was no point of thinking about that.

Of what there was to learn anymore.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment.

And suddenly he was tumbling, like a agonizing rollercoaster. Upside down. The crash of metal and he was blind.

Miraculously he opened his eyes.

The next thing he remembered was pain. That he was in the car. Having to get out. Crawling out through the broken glass of the side window,dragging his bloody leg behind him , the jutting bone poking out of his thigh, in the hot sun.

And when he heard Derek and Brandon walking up behind...

Chris Manawa knew he was going to die.


End file.
